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"r..\C}{ INIiIVmi AI. SI'KriMKN IS \ IIIMVN iMicrMKNT ' 




THE MAKING OF A XA\ A.lo HLAMvKT. 



By Geok(;k J[. I'Ki'i'Ki; 



IlI.USTKATKI) riiiiM I'IKITuCKAPHS. 



D?:LIGATE in texture, ex(iuisite in de- 
sign, wonderful in cunstruction, the 
textiles of the ancient leruvians 
stand alone in the arts of the New World, 
and are foni])aral)le with any of the archaic 
loom-work of the ( )rient. lUit the old Peru- 
vians, thouf^h past-masters in the art of 
weaving, were not alone in their vocation. 
The old Xahuas, the Mayas, and other trihes 
of Mexico and Central America, well knew 
the possibilities of the loom, and from the 
evidence at hand we are safe in sayinjj that 
the i)rehistoric sedentary people of our own 
Southwest were also textile-makers of no 
small merit. Ikit of their descendants we 
cannot say as much, for the modern I'uehlo 
Indians weave only the most simjilc form of 
blankets. 

While the Pueblo })eoiile lived in j»eace in 
a land of comparative ])lenty, their sesthetic 
arts improved ; but when the bands of 
Apaches and Navajos swept down upon 
them there came a change, and a deca- 
dence began which was increased by the 
Spanish conquest and afterward by the suc- 
cessive inroads of white adventurers ami 
settlers. The Navajos were hunters who 
levied tribute upon their agricultural neigh- 



bors, and when later the Spaniards ajtpeared 
and brought new game, these nomads helped 
them.selves most freely, especially to the 
sheej). The Navajo seemed naturally adajited 
to the life of a herdsman, and the horse at 
once became his friend and ally, while tlu' 
increasing Hocks of sheej», at first stolen 
for food, were can*d for by the .squaws. 
Now, when the Navajo saw the wonderful 
trappings of I'oronado's army, he was, no 
doubt, impressed by the fabrics worn by 
the soldiers and the blankets in which thi-y 
slejit at night, and began to realize th«' full 
imi)ort of the work already known to him. 
At all ('Vents, he conceived a desire to 
weave, and this he did, utilizing native im- 
plements and foreign material. The loom- 
sticks he either borrowed or copied from 
the Pueblos, and then by ravelling a ver>' 
hard-twist Sjianish cloth, known as *' va- 
yeta," he rewove it and made the " Serape 
.\avaho" of the old traders and explorers. 
It seems quite evident that the Navajo.^ 
learned their art from the Pueblos, but 
from the evidence obtainable they did not 
put their knowledge to any use until after 
I he con(}uest ; then a great many years must 
have elapsed before the next step was taken, 



34 



KVERVIIODV^S AIAdAZINE 



and the wool from tho sheop made to take 
the place of the hiujh-priced material from 
which they obtained tlieir woof. Once be- 
gun, however, it ])resented unlimited ])ossi- 
bilities, and the (juick-witted nomad seemed 
to grasj) the situation. He worked ar- 
duously, and though he appro])riated the 
Spaniard's sheep, the only tools that he bor- 
rowed from him were the shears and wool- 
cards. With the old primitive distaff and 
Pueblo loom he spun links of wool, forming 
a chain of such exceeding length that, when 
Ins country was absorbed by our great 
Union, it reached the seat of government, 
and thousands of sheep were added to his 
flocks through the generosity of his foster 
fathers. This assistance was well directed, 
and the result is self-evident, for there are 
few who have not seen or at least heard of 
a Navajo blanket. 

I>ut how many realize the amount of labor 
involved in prejjaring the crude wool as it 
is taken from the sheep, and converting it 
into a twine that is thin enough and strong 
enough for the warp-strands of their work ? 
Who but the initiated, in looking upon their 
beautiful designs, are impressed with the 



fact that they are viewing an evidence of 
individuality ? It is not machine work, 
where each thread is counted by a comi)li- 
cated mechanism, and where each design is 
mathematically perfect ; the forms and fig- 
ures are evolved while the work is in prog- 
ress, and drawn in their entirety upon the 
kaleidoscopic mirror of the mind alone. If 
it is new to you, my reader, you would, no 
doubt, like to see the squaw as she labors 
faithfully from the initial stages of the 
work until it is ready to adorn her own 
hogan or be sold to a neighboring Pueblo or 
trader. Let us journey, then, westward to 
a broad ancient waterway in northwestern 
New Mexico, known as Chaco Caiion, and 
find there the Navajo at home; not on the 
reservation set apart for him by the authori- 
ties in Washington, but in one of the graz- 
ing areas that he has preempted for the 
immediate needs of his hungry flocks. 

We have not far to go to see the blanket- 
makers, for some of the older ones are 
usually near camp; not begging, but ear- 
nestly hoping that they will be invited to 
partake of what is left after the meal — a 
cup of coffee at least, which is to them not 




HEK WKINKLKU, TlME-WuKN, ELEMENT-SCAKKEL) FACE BEAKS MUTE EVIDENCE TO THE YEARS OF WORK THAT 

SHE HAS SEEN." 



TlIK .MAK'IN(i OK A NA\ A.lo Ki.AMv'K'P 



85 




<!^<^j^y'^ 



•.>f^^ 



iw ', . ^^^•.«:r■w:r. »■-* <•"- \,M < 



V(:%^:^^ 






Tin: iiooAX, III; iim.-i;, i;i;nki: m,!,"! 'm-.- -,- - \ n w tkm ■. imh tiik 

CIRCLE. THE TOP IS CUVKKKD WITH BKl SH ilR A HI.ANKKT, itlT UhTKN . 
. . . F0RX5S THE BACK PART OF THE HOUSE." 



;i;iirMi X' 



AN AKR«»Vi>-Bk..NCU 



merely ti luxury, but as essential as the so- 
called * ' staff of life. ' ' One of these old vet- 
eran weavers is shown in the illustration, and 
her wrinkled, time-worn, element-scarred 
face bears mute evidence to the years of 
work that she has scm. Practically all of 
the blankets are made by the squaws, both 
old and younj^, the few men who do the 
squaw's work makinj^ the exception that 
proves the rule. The squaw cares for the 
sheep, which are moved in large flocks from 
l)asture to pasture, and <]:reat foresi{Tht must 
be exercised in ])reparin<; for the futuro 
needs of their charp^es, both in the way of 
new pastures and also in regard to a suffi- 



cient supj)ly of watt'r. The s<juaw also 
shears the sheep, and carries the wool 
to camp; thoujjh the latter i)art of the 
work sometimes falls to the lot of a burro 
or a pony. The summer camp is placi»d in 
the most convenient i)lace, and the hogan, 
or house, genorally consists of a few trees 
driven into the j^round to form a .'Semicircle. 
The top is covered with bnish or a blanket, 
but often, as in the accompanying picture. 
an arroyo-bench is .^selected, a part of which 
forms the back part of the house. In these 
rough shelters the blanket work is carried on. 
In the jirejiaratory stages of the work 
the first operation is the shearing of the 



,16 



KVKKYBODY'S MAGAZINE 




"WHEN THE WORK or HYKIXC IS CuMPLI'TKH, THE \V()OI. IS I'l'LLKIl AI'AIIT ANli I'LACED UN THE WOOL-CARDS 
. . . WITH THESE CARDS THE WOOL IS PREPARED FOR THE SPINDLES." 



sheep. The animal is caught, thrown upon 
its side and hog-tied ; that is, the four legs 
are crossed and bound securely with a piece 
of wool-rope, and then, with an occasional 
bleat of protest, the sheep is relieved of its 
coat. The great shearing-time is in the 
spring and fall, but sheep are sometimes 
sheared during the summer months. 

Occasionally the fleece is taken off in one 
large piece, as shown in the illustration on 
page 87, and the rough parts and ends are 
removed and put aside for the coarser saddle- 
pads, experience having taught them that it is 
not policy to utilize the second-grade mate- 
rial in the construction of a good blanket. 
The white wool is not clean, as a rule, and 
does not stand out as it should when com- 
bined with black and other dark colors. The 
scarcity of water and the absence of sheeji- 
dips are, of course, responsible for this state 
of aff^airs; nevertheless w^e have succeeded 
in inducing a few of the squaws to wash the 
wool, both black and white, and the portion 
that is to be dyed as well as that which is 
to be utilized in the natural state. When 
washed the wool is placed on the grease- 
wood bushes to dry, after which it is ready 
for the dyeing process. 



Most of the Navajo sheep are white, but 
l^lack ones are not uncommon. This gives 
the Indian two natural contrasts in color, 
with numerous shades of black and brown, 
while the wool of some sheep assumes al- 
most- a blue color. Occasionally all of these 
products are used in their natural state, but 
the white wool is the only one that is used 
to any extent without being dyed. The 
black wool is never a jet black ; it has a 
red tinge, and is seldom used without being 
treated with " El-gee' -ba-toh," their na- 
tive black dye, or the now prevalent aniline 
dye of the trader. 

The native dyes of the Navajos are few. 
The only one they were using in their wool- 
work when I first saw them, in 1896, was 
l)lack, and even this was fast being replaced 
by the dyes from stores. There is a yellow- 
green dye that is used occasionally ; it is 
made from the flowering tops of the rabbit- 
weed (Bigelovia gravcolcns). After the 
flower-stalks have boiled for several hours 
a native alum is added, the use of the lat- 
ter being that of a mordant. It gives a 
variety of shades, and is really a good dye 
for wool-work. Their native red dye is still 
used for moccasins and buckskin in general, 



'I'lII': MAKIX(i oi' A \A^'A.r() iilaxkkt 



87 



but owinp; to tlie pale n-d color, the result 
when it is applied to wool, it is seldom used 
for that purjjose. The preparation of the 
lilack dye recpiires both time and labor, 
l-'irst the leaves and twi<i;s of the aromatic 
sumac {liliiis (troiiKiticd) are boili'd for six 
hours, while the sipiaw <,n'in(is ferru^nmius 
ochre and bui;ns it in an open fryin«i^-pan. 
When the ochre has chanjjjed to a red i)ow- 
der, pinon-gum is added and stirred con- 
stantly until it carbonizes and forms with 
the ochre a black ])owder, which is added 
to the liquid, thereliy forming a permanent 
dye. It is, as Dr. Washinfj^ton Matthew 
says, a regular ink, " the tannic acid of 
the sumac combining with the sesquioxide 
(if iron in the roasted ochre, the whole en- 
liched by the carbon of the calcined gum." 
This licpiid is used in dyeing buckskin, 
leather, and textiles, as well as the natural 
wool. Some of the old vayeta blankets have 
a very dark blue design, but this coloring 
material was not native, being the indigo 
that the Spaniards introduced, and which 
the Navajos have retained throughout the 
historic period. I have been told that they 



liad, originally, a biu.- dy.- of their own, but 
I could find no one wIkj knew how it was 
made, liowevt-r, though we hav<! only two 
jiurcly primitive wool-dyt-s known to the 
l)rescnt blanket-makers, the variants of the 
yt'llow-green dye airord tht-m a number of 
ditfcrent shades, ranging fn^m a canary- 
yellow to an olive-gretm. 

When the work of dyeing is cr)m|»leted, 
the W(jol is pulled apart and place<l on the 
wool-cards. These *' cards " are of .Vmeri- 
can manufacture. They are thin rectangu- 
lar pieces of wood with handles, one side 
being covered with a strip of leather con- 
taining tine wire teeth. With these cards 
the wool is prepared for the spindles. In 
the process the fibres are made to lie in the 
same general direction, so that the finished 
l)iece is of uniform thickness, and forms a 
strip about four inches wide and seven 
inches in length. This strip is taken by 
the sijuaw and wound U|)on a distaff of 
])rimitive form — this first jirocess of spin- 
ning being a lengthening and twisting of the 
wool. The illustratinn on jiage oS shows 
this. The distaff used l>y the Xavajos is 




^jitiA^ 



OCCASIONALLY THli FLKKCK IS TAKKN iih'F IN ONK LAKc;K rihXK, . . . AM> THK KUL'GU PAKTS AND t.M'; 
ARE REMOVED AND PUT ASIDE FOR THE COARSER SADDLE-PAiKs." 



38 



EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE 




THE FIBRES ARE MADE TO LIE IN THE SAME GENERAL DIRECTION, SO THAT THE FINISHED PIECE IS OF 
UNIFORM THICKNESS, AND FORMS A STRIP ABOUT FOUR INCHES WIDE AND SEVEN INCHES IN LENGTH. THIS 
STRIP IS TAKEN BY THE SQUAW AND WOUND UPON A DISTAFF OF PRIMITIVE FORM — THIS FIRST PROCESS 
OF SPINNING BEING A LENGTHENING AND TWISTING OF THE WOOL." 



practically the same as that used by the 
ancient Pueblo people, the only diiference 
being in the size and shai)e of the whorl, the 
one shown in the accompanying jjhotograph 
being a flat circular piece, whereas most 
of the old ones were thicker and much 
smaller. The i»ositi()n in which the distaff 
is held and the manner of manipulation 
vary in different tribes. While the Motjuis 
roll the distaff along the leg, using the flat- 
tened fingers and j)art of the palm, and the 
Peruvians twirl their thin needle-like pieces 
into the air and deftly catch them as they 
return, the Navajos rest the u])per part 
of the imjilement against the leg, and re- 
volve it with a twirling motion of the thumb 
and fingers, the lower end resting on the 
ground. Put among all tribes where the 
primitive form of sjjinning is retained the 
work is long and tedious. 

The second step in the spinning is the un- 
winding and twisting of the loose strand, 
which leaves it in an almost hopeless mass 
of kinks and snarls, but in the third step 
these are all straightened out when the 
skein is returned to the distaff; it has now 



become more like a fluffy cord than when it 
was lying in a heap. Many times must the 
patient squaw wind and unwind, stretch and 
twist, ere she may put it aside as the fin- 
ished woof -strand. Even then the spinning 
has but begun ; another lot must be worked 
in the same way, and even more carefully 
than the first, for when the woof-size is 
reached the work is only half done. At 
this point great care must be exerted to 
keep the strand uniform ; for it is to be the 
warp, or framework, on which the blanket is 
to be built. Harder and tighter she twists 
it until, after long hours of toil, she produces 
a strong, kinky, bristling twine whose little 
filaments will hold the woof-strands in a 
vise-like grip as the weaving progresses. 

After the spinning process two small 
trees, or poles, are obtained, and to these 
the blanket-sticks are tied, usually with na- 
tive wool-rope. These sticks are generally 
old ones that have been used for years, and 
the squaws become so attached to them that 
when a bargain is being made for a loom 
it is very difiicult to persuade a blanket- 
maker to part with this particular part of 



'I'lIK MAKINC (»l" A \\\ A.li» l;l, ANKK.'I' 



her outfit. After the loom-sticks arc ail- 
justed, and the loom is placed in a horizoiilal 
position, the sticks are wound with a ratln-r 
coarse wool-cord, and through each l<»o|i 
is passed a twisted cord, which is to form 
the ends of the tinishi'd l)lanket. Tlu' warp- 
strand is next strun*^ from pole to jtole (as 
shown on this pajjre) across the rectan^adar 
space, the lot)p at either end passini,^ throu;^h 
a twist of the cord already mentioned, whiih 
lies along the inner side of the pole. When 
enough warp has been strung a twisted 
wool-cord is stretched near the outer conl 
at either side, and the loom is then raised 
to a perpendicular position and set uj) in the 
hogan. The uprights are tirmly imbedded 
in the ground, and the loom is then appar- 
ently ready for work ; but there is one other 
essential that shows the ingenuity of the 
Indian, for evidently realizing that the mere 
matter of tying the lower loom-sticks to 
the uprights would not insure rigidity, since 
the work would tend to loosen the knots 
and the warp-strands would be more or less 
loose as a result, she proceeded to dig di- 
rectly under the loom-sticks three holes 
large enough and deep enough to receive 



heavy stones. These holes were pla<<*<l at 
either end and under the mi«ldle of the 
lower loom-pole, while to the stoneH 8UM- 
peiKbMl in the holes conirt from thewe etidK 
Were fastened, thereby keeping the warp- 
strands uidformly taut, ami leaving the 
liiom ready in every way for the Idanket^ 
work, as shown on page |(>. 

Th(! skeleton has now been made, the 
framework upon which the blanket is to Ik; 
Imilt. 

The s(|uaw must next consider what kind 
of a blanket is to be made, for upon her 
decision will depend the arrangement of the 
heaMs, which are shown in the lower part 
of the jticture. These healds are made by 
knotting a cord about a long twig, each loop 
of which encloses a warp-strand. The heald 
is nuide in such a way that it may be readily 
moved, its work being the .separation of 
the strands. In simple, .solid color-work one 
or more slender twigs are used in connection 
with the heald, one of which may be .seen 
below and another above it in the |tlate. 

The tirst and most essential tool to be 
used is the batten, or IJay-heck-kin-klish', 
with which the squaw separates the warp- 




Al'TEK THK SHNMNG I'KUCK; 



. . nil. UAKl'-STKAM' l.> NKXT 
ACROSS THE RECTANGULAR SPACE.' 



STKl Ni-. KlUlM inl.l. lu VuLL 



40 



EYERYTX) DY'S MAGAZINE 



strands for the passage of the shuttle and 
pounds dowTi the woof-strands when they 
have been phiced in position. Generally it 
is a piece of scrub-oak, three feet long, 
three inches wide, and half an inch thick, 
boat-shajted at the ends, with thin edges. 
The manner in which this tool is handled, 




THE LOOM HEADY IN EVERY WAV FOR THE liEANKET \V()i;K 



or rathfr the energy with which it is iist'd, 
regulates, to a great degree, the hanlness, 
ixnci therefore the tirnmess of the blanket. 
When a hard, line blanket is to be made, 
the warp-strands are closely strung, and 
the woof ])asHed through and })ulled taut 
before it is pounded into place by the re- 
])eated blows of the batten. On the other 
hand, when a saddk'-f)ad or other loosely 
woven blanket is to be made, the wool is 



j)assed through loosely and pressed into place 
with a little implement called a ' ' Pay ttsoy, ' ' 
a combination of a comb and an awl, the 
awl serving to loosen any part that may 
prove to be uneven after the irregular dis- 
tribution of the loosely spun woof. The 
wool is then i)atted gently with the batten 
to equalize the irregular- 
ities and prepare an even 
surface for the next cross- 
section. 

As most of the Navajo 
blankets are a combina- 
tion of designs, there is 
very little use for a shut- 
tle, hence there is no spe- 
cialized form of this imple- 
ment. When solid color- 
work is to be done a twig 
of greasewood serves the 
]»urpose admirably. The 
wool is wound back and 
forth as a boy winds kite- 
cord, and only enough to 
finish the solid portion in 
course of construction at 
the time. As the bulk 
of the work is in the form 
of designs, the wool for 
each figure is made into a 
little ball, or, should the 
design be a small one, the 
wool-strand is allowed to 
liang from its position, as 
shown on page 41. The 
number of these pendent 
strands depends, of 
course, upon the number 
of designs on a given level 
and the numl)er of colors 
that are being used in 
each figure, but occasion- 
ally as many as twenty or 
thirty strands may be 
seen, and at such times 
the swiftness with which 
the numerous pieces are 
manipulated is really marvellous. For de- 
termining the length of the different fig- 
ufcs in the more simple designs, the 
s([uaw sometimes ties a cord around the 
warp-strands that are to be included ; 
the accomi)anying plate shows this in 
three places. As each marginal woof- 
strand is added it is passed through a twist 
in the side cords before mentioned. 1 say 
marginal strand, for very often from five 



TIIK MAKINC <)|' A N\\ \.l<> I'.I.ANKKr 



41 



to a dozon strands will l)i' hiiili \\\> on one 
side before the other side is worked, so one 
may readily see that a unifonn line is nnt 
always maintained. Work of this kind, al- 
thou}>;h eausinjr a very notieeahle ditrerencc 
between handwork and ineehaiiieal rit^nin-s. 
detracts from the a'stlietic aiipearaiicr of 
the hnished ])rodiict; and. 
as it seems to l)e attriluit- 
able to nothinfj U'ss than 
sheer laziness on the j)art 
of the S(iuaw, it is beinjjj 
di-scoura^i^ed by those who 
are interested in tlie de- 
velopment of the art of 
the Navajos. 

In makinij a blanket, 
the squaw always sits, 
buildinj^ up the designs as 
far as she can reach ; she 
then removes the lower 
loom-pole and forms a roll 
of the finished part of tlu' 
blanket. The loom-pole 
is then fastened to the 
face of the blanket at a 
point just below the upj)er 
line of the woof. Here a 
fold is made, and throu<j;h 
the double section thus 
formed the coarse wool- 
cord is sewed, each stitch 
of which passes under the 
cord of the loom-pole. 
The whole blanket is now 
lowered, the three stone 
weights adjusted, and the 
work is resumed. 

In examining the work 
of the Navajos, heavy 
ridges are very often no- 
ticeable, so that at times 
it almost seems that two 
sections have been sewed 
together, but closer scru- 
tiny shows that the ])iece 
is entire. It requires years 
of constant use to obliter- 
ate these i>eculiar loom- 
marks. When the blanket 
is nearly completed very thin and nar- 
row battens, or pounding sticks, are useil, 
and the strands are finally jiressed into place 
with long needles of wood which are used 
in connection with the little comb. Can'- 
fully the last strands are pounded home — no 
shirking at this stage of the work. One by 



ont' tht-y are wovt-n in and out until at last 
no space remains, and tlu* lalKjfs of the 
weaver are at an enij. 

Thus the blanket is rolled and sewed and 
the loom lowered; steji by step it is evolvi-^l 
from the crudf wool, until at laHt it Htunds 
before us a thing of beauty, tin* material a.s 




Tin; wudi, IS WdiNU haik and koktii a- i;''. . . . 

AS TIIK BULK OK THK WOKK IS IN TIIK KoUM (H lil--<li,.\.S . • . ."<HOtl,|i 
THK liK.SRIN BK A .SMALL D.NK, THK W(J<JL-.STKA.\U IS ALIJ>WKIt n> HAN«; 
KKoM ITS POSITION." 



free from jiadding as the work wasat nni^ime 
free from the influen<-e of civihV-ition. Hut 
our prosaic natures fail to n-aliz"' that each 
individual ."Specimen is a human d<K'ument. 

In the rush and turmoil of our bu.'^y life 
we do not think of the story that is woven 
into those ever-changing strands, nor of the 



42 



EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE 




ONE OF THE MOST WONDERPTIL PIECES UF DESKiN 
WORK THAT THE NAVAJOS HAVE EVER PRODUCED. 
. . . THE DESIGNS AND THE GENERAL ENSEMBLE 
ARE PRICELESS TO THE STUDENT, BUT TO COMPARE 
THE STORE WOOF WITH THE PRIMITIVE FORM WOULD 
BE A FARCE." 

tales of woe and siiflPering that those bright 
and gaudy colors have beheld. But could 
that lifeless form be given speech, it could 
tell of days of adverse fortune vi^hen the 
sandstorms held mad revel, and the house- 
hold goods were piled about it to keep it 
clean, while its owner sought the friendly 
shelter of a nc^ighboring rock. Or it might 
speak of nights when all was dark, when 
waters dashed in torrents through the roof- 
less hogan, causing scpiaws to bare their 
shoulders to the elements while their blan- 
kets shielded it from harm. How many in- 
stances of suffering might be cited — patient 
cripples, weak and emaciated men and wom- 
en, feeble with age and exj)osure, sul»sisting 
• III corn and water, watching day by day the 
progress of the blanket whose coni])letinn 
will mean coffee and a few of the luxiiri(!s 
that \v(^ would class as nin-essities! Then 
the l)Ianket is finished and the journey to the 
trading store begins. The squaw knows from 



experience what she should receive for her 
work, and therefore demands a certain 
amount as her just dues. The trader, hard- 
hearted and grasping, as a rule, takes 
from his money-pouch perhaps one-half the 
blanket's value in silver and throws it upon 
the counter. The squaw realizes the injus- 
tice of the act, but also knows full well that 
there is but one alternative, and that is to 
ride perhaps a score of miles to the next 
store, and that, too, without the slightest 
prospect of better treatment when she 
reaches it. Then comes the thought of the 
anxious ones at home, and she realizes how 
great will be the disappointment if she re- 
turns empty-handed. Long she ponders, 
then conquering the ever-increasing anger 
that threatens to gain the mastery over rea- 
son, she takes the proffered coin. She is 
able to buy but half the goods that she had 
hoped to get, and the trader realizes from 
one hundred to three hundred per cent, 
on each article that she buys. 

Thus it has been for many years, but I 
am glad that I am able to say that a new 
regime has begun which promises to give 
the Navajo not only an honest equivalent 
for his work, but also a helping hand in 
each and all of the various ways that tend 
to elevate and cause a betterment in his 
physical and financial status. 

On page 43 we have a reproduction of one 
of the purely primitive blankets. It is a 
small rug made entirely from natural native 
products. In this form of blanket we have 
the result of recent training. The wool 
has been washed and the natural colors have 
been utilized ; these consist of a black and 
a yellow-brown, forming a design on a white 
background. It not only does away with 
the dyes of the white man, but the effect is 
l)loasing to the eye, for the colors are very 
soft and harmonize perfectly. The blanket 
under consideration was made for the writer 
(luring the summer of 18i)8, when the work 
of the Hyde Exploring Expedition among 
the Navajos, begun in 1896, was bearing- 
fruit. But the reclaiming of the Indian's 
art proved to be a task that necessitated 
untiring labor with results hardly sufficient 
to rei)ay one for the time and money ex- 
jx'nded. Unforeseen obstacles were con- 
stantly encountered. The Indian had l)eeii 
moving in a certain groove for years, and 
did not ai»i)reciate innovations that tended 
to disru])t the work that had been brought 
about by the traders. 



BD 1.4 » 



TIIK MAKINC OF A N.WA.Io I'.I.AXKKT 



43 



One of the greatest evils with whicli we 
had to cope was the use of white stoit- curil, 
which was rajiidly rcphicin^ the iiativt- warji. 
With the machine-made cord for thf warp 
tile labor of Idanket work was j^reatly re- 
duced, iiiankets could he made more rap- 
iilly, and the trader seldom made a dilfer- 
ence in the price of the tinislied artii'lr. 
Then the hideous i)urples and i^reens weri' 
introduced to swell the great list of alien 
dyes. Some of the combinations conse- 
quent upon this step affected even the apa- 
thetic trader, to say nothing of the re- 
tailers in the cities. Tliey were ohligeil to 
refuse any and all blankets that contained 
designs in 
purple. Thus 
public opin- 
ion will tend 
to crush an 
evil when it 
passes be- 
yond the 
bounds of 
gesthetic en- 
durance. 

There is 
another 
grievance 
that must be 
laid at the 
door of the 
trader. Not 
satisfied with 
his innova- 
tions of ani- 
line colors 
and animals 
galoi'e, both 
of which run 

at will across the fields of blankets that 
should not be profaned by such intrusions, 
he gave the Indians yarn from the factories 
that have made the city of (Jermantown 
famous. At first he gave them warp, as 
we have seen ; then, to make the jiroduct 
still more modernized, he furnished them 
with a ready-made woof. What an easy 
time for the Indian — no shearing, no bother 
at all with the crude wool, no tedious spin- 
ning, no dyeing; nothing to do, in fact, but 
the actual weaving! A saving of labor to 
the Indian, 'tis true, but oh, how n.uch the 
beauty and artistic merit of their work has 
suffered! Where are the variants in color 
values that give their dye work such a 




IT IS A SMALL lUC MAUK KNTIKKLY KKUM NATIKAL NATI\ K FROI>i;<TS. 
IN' THIS FORM OF HLANKKT \VK HAVK THK K^:.S^LT OF UKCKXT TKALN- 
ING. THE WOOL HAS KKKN WASllKl) A.M> THK NATUKAL COI.OKS HAVE 
BEEN UTILIZED ; THESE CONSIST OF A BLACK AND A YELLOW-BKOWN, 
FORMING A DESIGN ON A WHITE BACKGROUND." 



charm? Where i.s the rough, uneven sur- 
face with its warmth of blended fibreH? 
Where is that iiifXplainaiili' soiiH-thiiig that 
draws us with an irrt'sistiblf desire to the 
native work? .Ml have vanished, and we 
beh(»ld in the (It-rmantown blanket a tfxtih- 
not truly Indian, but merely an exhibition 
of his ai)ilitie.s as a weaver. 

The blanki't shown on page 42 is one 
of the most wonderful i»i«'ces of design work 
that the Navajos have ever priMJuced. The 
ancient cloud terraces with the zigzag 
lightidng and the esoteric design.s of the 
jtriesthood have a (duirm and a value that 
are immeasurable; itut how much more in- 
teresting it 
would have 
been and how 
much greater 
the degree of 
ethnic i ni - 
jiortance had 
they but 
made it from 
their native 
wool, to say 
nothing of 
the pleasant 
associations 
of such a 
work ! The 
<lt'signs and 
the general 
ensemble are 
priceless to 
the student, 
but to com- 
par e the 
store woof 
with the 
primitive form would be a farce. 

If we care naught for the primitive work, 
if the desire is to j)erfect the Indian's tex- 
tile arts along the lines of modern thought, 
then the sooner we introduce the jiroper 
machinery the better. I'.ut (Jod forbid that 
such a day shouM ever dawn. .May the sun 
never rise upon the Navajo and behold him 
in more modenuzed condition in his Itlanket 
work than at the pre.sent time. On the 
contrary, let us hope that the efforts that 
are now on foot may grow to such propor- 
tions that the modern influence may be swept 
away completely, and primitive ideas and 
jirimitive work be once more the dominant 
factor in his weaung industries. 



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